


Forget the Suicide Pill, You're What I Want

by The_Bentley



Series: Cold Open Fictions [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Character Development, Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Forgiveness, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gardens & Gardening, Hurt, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Pre-Relationship, Temporarily Unrequited Love, The Arrangement (Good Omens), The Great Plan (Good Omens), Unrequited Lust, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-17 17:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: When in Victorian England, Aziraphale reduces thousands of years of friendship to mere “fraternizing with the Enemy,” one very hurt demon is ready to forget the whole friendship.  Aziraphale is never going to truly understand Crowley not just another evil denizen of Hell.  Hopefully things are not beyond repair, because not only is Crowley in love with the angel and seriously pining after him, he believes Aziraphale needs to figure out that Heaven is not the Paradise he thinks it is.A continuation of the Victorian London vignette in the "Hard Times" cold open.  Mature tag is for Chapters One and Two.





	1. A Spat at The Gentleman's Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Angels aren’t so different from demons, no matter how much_ some _want to ignore that blatant fact,” Crowley sneered. “If you want a real rival, well, you’ve now got one. See you around. Or not. You’ve made it obvious you’d rather not talk to me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _London, 1862_

Not one employee attempted to stop Crowley as he stormed into Aziraphale’s club looking for the angel. In fact, not one human in the place, staff or member, seemed to notice his presence there at all. He searched the building, room by room until he found Aziraphale sitting in the library, nose buried in the latest edition of the newspaper. He snapped his fingers, taking them both out of time so they could talk. Statue-like humans surrounded them like so much art.

“Why are you here?” Aziraphale didn’t bother looking up from his paper.

“I’m rescinding the Arrangement.”

“Fine.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” hissed Crowley . “If you got caught consorting with me, you could come up with a perfectly reasonable explanation and get away with a strongly-worded reprimand from your clueless superiors about not letting that wily demon tempt you. Everyone knows you are incapable of actually doing anything that would count as insubordinate.”

Aziraphale just sighed dramatically in response. 

Crowley continued. “You have everyone fooled, don’t you? Including yourself. I know about the criminal types who tried to shake you down, but never returned. How about Noah’s Ark and Rome? How you felt no guilt over the deaths of innocent people. Oh, you were uncomfortable about those situations, but in the end you slept well at night without a thought about the souls lost. Or would have if angels slept.”

“Are you quite through?”

“Not by a long shot, Aziraphale,” said the furious demon. “You are not as innocent as you like to believe you are. You play a game of absolutes while standing in a grey area, the irony being you can’t even see that. Nor could you see that I’m standing in the same grey area and just want insurance in case things _do _go wrong.”

“I’ll not help you suicide, Crowley.”

“And I told you that’s not what it’s for. I’m not going to end it all at the first sign of trouble,” Crowley sighed. “If I have to fight, I want some kind of advantage. I give a damn about our friendship, yet you just reduced it from thousands of years of knowing each other on quite a close level to ‘slightly acquainted with the Enemy.’ But if that’s what you want.”

“If you think it is best.”

“Fine. I’ll find some way of getting a hold of holy water without involving some proper little Principality who’s afraid of getting his hands dirty if it doesn’t directly benefit him. So much for the idea that angels are selfless beings. I have yet to meet one who doesn’t have their own best interests at heart.”

Aziraphale still wasn’t looking up from his newspaper. Crowley reached over and ripped it away from him, surprising the angel. Angry blue eyes glared at him.

“Angels aren’t so different from demons, no matter how much _some_ want to ignore that blatant fact,” he sneered. “If you want a real rival, well, you’ve now got one. See you around. Or not. You’ve made it obvious you’d rather not talk to me.”

“Crowley, stop this. Please!” 

But Crowley had spun on his heel to storm back out, turning his back so that the angel couldn’t see the sadness clouding the serpentine eyes behind those dark glasses.

Why did he bother with that idiot? He was never going to understand Crowley’s position due to being entirely too loyal to his own side. He couldn’t comprehend how the demon did not have the loyalty to Hell that he did to Heaven. Such black and white thinking. It never occurred to him that Crowley didn’t Fall because he actually joined Lucifer’s Revolt but because he was a round peg in the square hole that was Heaven. Heaven wasn’t interested in keeping around those who didn’t completely toe the line.

But they stung, those thoughts of completely cutting of contact with his rival/friend. It had been _millennia_ now and they were a far cry from the beings who occasionally ran into each other, had a little bit of polite conversation before going back to trying to pull one over on the other. They had the Arrangement and what Crowley thought was a real friendship.

But there was more there than friendship for Crowley. He was suffering from a bad case of unrequited love. Aziraphale had no clue how much the demon wanted to take him in his arms, show him how much he adored him. Strip those frumpy clothes off him, then take him to his bed to slowly, gently make love to the angel while those blue eyes gazed lovingly back at him as they both reached climax. His heart ached to just touch Aziraphale. Even being allowed that little bit of contact would be enough. 

Part of him so badly wanted to run back to the club to confess everything, but why bother? He now saw how cold his rival really was. He doubted if Aziraphale really had true feelings for him. He was just a familiar face that followed the angel through the ages, therefore, kind of understood his experiences. Nothing more. Nothing less. Someone to fraternize with when he thought Heaven wouldn’t notice it.

Hurting like he never had before, he stalked off to hail a cab back to his new townhome. He had moved out of his old one in Soho a while ago when the more elite started migrating to Mayfair. That had offended Aziraphale somewhat, but Crowley ran with the rich crowd and when the well-off started moving into chic homes in the district to the west, he did, too. Not that it should matter since they weren’t friends. 

The anger escaped once he was inside and he allowed it to rage for a few moments while banishing soft thoughts of the angel. If this was his first day of being a “real” demon, he’d better get on it. Sitting down at his writing desk, he started scripting the first honest report he had in millennia.


	2. Thinking of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the argument at the club, Aziraphale engages in some retail therapy to forget about things (one can never had too many snuffboxes), but finds his thoughts return to Crowley. Meanwhile, Crowley can’t keep certain dreams from disturbing his sleep at night.

Aziraphale was fully aware shopping wasn’t the best idea when he was so emotional, but would it ever calm him down plus give him something to contemplate about other than a demon who decided to throw a temper tantrum over not getting his way. That scene at his club was absolutely uncalled for. He was glad Crowley stopped time so the other patrons wouldn’t have to watch him carry on like that. But you know what they say about redheads. Apparently it applied to immortal beings as well as humans.

The proprietor looked up, hearing the tinkle of the bell that announced a customer. He smiled upon seeing one of his better clients entering the store. 

“Mr. Fell! How are you? How’s the book business?”

Aziraphale smiled in return. “Good afternoon, Mr. Evans. The shop’s doing well. The same for you, I pray?” 

“Business has been brisk lately. See anything that’s catching your fancy?”

“I saw that snuffbox you have displayed in the window. You know my weaknesses, my dear fellow.” The angel laughed. 

“They are such works of art.” Evans approached the window and took it out for Aziraphale to examine. 

He took it carefully, inspecting the fine work of the chasing around the sides and lid. The central cartouche on the lid was blank, Evans pointing out it would be the perfect place for his initials. Aziraphale privately thought it would look lovely with a pair of wings etched there.

“Should I wrap it up for you, Mr. Fell?”

“Yes, please do.” 

He again thought he shouldn’t be making purchases when he was feeling rather bothered by the exchanges with Crowley at both the park and his club. But it wasn’t like he didn’t have the money or Evans didn’t have mouths to feed. If nothing else, handing over payment for the snuffbox helped keep a roof over the Evans family’s heads. That was worth something. He took the wrapped package from the shopkeeper and thanked him.

Aziraphale continued walking to his bookshop, nothing else on the itinerary for today. He thankfully only had a couple of small blessings this week. The weather was turning quite brisk, therefore he found he’d rather spend his time inside the warm bookshop. With any luck, Heaven would ignore him for a while after he checked the blessings off his to-do list. As time passed he found they communicated less with him, required less work and didn’t seem to mind too much if he skived off on the reports. To be honest, he wasn’t too broken up about having more free time. The humans took care of themselves. It seemed to balance out quite nicely without much nudging from either him or Crowley. 

There was that name again. He seemed forever entwined with that demon. Why the request for holy water out of him? Why was he suddenly worried Hell would come after him? That he’d need to protect himself? Well, Crowley wasn’t exactly the best at toeing the line more than necessary. Maybe chances were good someone would find that out one day.

It didn’t matter. Suicide or self-defense, it was too dangerous to allow him to have. He could accidentally destroy himself in some attempt to splash it on an attacking demon. Aziraphale shuddered at that thought.

He unlocked the door to the bookshop and entered, placing his new purchase on the shelves in his backroom where he kept his collection of snuffboxes. His coat went on the coat stand along with his hat. Then he was able to take a seat in his favourite overstuffed chair to relax for the evening. He felt like reading for a while. Later he’d fix himself a glass of scotch. That would be all he needed for the night. With luck, it would be enough to keep his mind off demons. 

Of course it didn’t. Crowley’s temper tantrum at the gentlemen’s club practically screamed that Aziraphale had cut him pretty deeply with the fraternization remark. What did Crowley expect? They were working for opposite sides. True, they might be acquaintances, but when all was said and done, their loyalty had to be to the side they were aligned with. He believed in Heaven and the work he was doing here on Earth, but he wondered if Crowley believed in anything. 

Aziraphale felt guilty; he didn’t need to hurt him, even if he was the Enemy. He was a social creature – more so than Aziraphale – and sought the angel out to keep his loneliness at bay. With a sigh, he resolved to go speak to Crowley tomorrow. He owed him an explanation for that hurtful remark because they were friends, after all.

~*~*~

The dreams were the worst. His mind played the cruelest of tricks on him, sending him visions of Aziraphale when all he wanted was to forget about the angel’s existence.

He was twining his fingers through that beautiful white-blond hair in the latest one, feeling its softness as he pulled Aziraphale in for a passionate kiss. The angel's lips on his as he explored every inch of Aziraphale’s beautiful body, touching every bit of exposed skin that he could before laying him down on the bed to show him the more carnal side of love. What would it be like to run a finger down the curve of Aziraphale’s buttocks? To slowly trace along it, moving every so erotically closer to the front? Or maybe just stay along the back and insert that finger into the tightness to be found there.

He awoke before his dream self decided what to do, uncomfortably hard. Rolling over on his back, he spit on his palm and got to work taking care of that. If it was only Aziraphale’s soft manicured hand working his erection instead of his own. He held on to that thought, finishing himself off pretty quickly between that and the recent dream. The mess wished away, he curled up in the fetal position while trying not to think of certain angels.


	3. Grey Areas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Crowley poured himself some scotch. Taking a seat, he regarded the anxious angel, who looked incredibly lost standing hesitantly there in the doorway._
> 
> _“I forgive you, but I hope you realize that I am more than just the Enemy. Heaven and Hell don’t give a damn about us. We’re the only ones who appreciate the other’s experiences here on Earth. Try not to forget that or you’re going to get awfully lonely.”_

Aziraphale waited politely in the foyer of Crowley’s townhouse as the butler left to announce his presence. Crowley keeping servants always irritated him, but he did so like his conveniences and when he could create money out of raw firmament, there wasn’t a convenience out of Crowley’s reach. 

The butler returned to escort Aziraphale to the conservatory with a warning that Mr. Crowley wasn’t in the best of moods. The angel thanked him. Crowley was in his shirt sleeves working with his large collection of finicky houseplant species that he kept alive with ease. But he always had a talent for growing them, even in later decades when he took to terrifying them. Scaring them into growing wasn’t going to work if they didn’t get light, water and the occasional shot of fertilizer.

Crowley noticed him there, gave him a disgusted look over his dark glasses then went back to work.

“That’s a lovely one, what’s it called?” Aziraphale asked slightly nervously. 

“_Dieffenbachia seguine_. Common name of dumb cane.”

“Why is it called ‘dumb cane’?”

“Because ingesting the sap causes temporary speechlessness.” Crowley snapped off a leaf and offered its oozing stem to Aziraphale. “Want to lick it so I don’t have to listen to your drivel for a few hours?”

Aziraphale shoved Crowley’s hand away with the annoyed look that he had perfected after years of putting up with Crowley’s brand of rudeness. “Honestly, I came here to apologize.”

“Apology not accepted. I have work to do, but it was nice of you to stop in to fraternize. Good-bye.”

“I’m sorry. Your request really concerned me and I reacted poorly to it. I never intended to make you think that I believed our association was worthless.”

“Well, you did.” Crowley removed a few dead leaves from another plant. “And I’m having a hard time wanting to forgive that. I’ve trusted you this entire time, but I don’t know why anymore. You’re never going to think of me as anything more than just another evil demon. I don’t appreciate being lumped in the same category as the likes of Ligur. I’m not a monster, Aziraphale. You, of all people, should know that by now.”

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. “Yes… Well… What am I supposed to think? We’re on opposite sides.”

“We’re basically on a side of our own here. I know Heaven ignores you as much as Hell ignores me. We’re only useful as some token attempt to collect souls for our sides. That doesn’t matter because I _like _Earth. It sure beats being stuck in Hell with all those wankers. I didn’t exactly become a demon by choice. Honestly, do you see me rebelling? I didn’t. It was that I simply wasn’t a God-fearing bootlicker. An angel who asked questions wasn’t welcome in Heaven.”

Aziraphale was at a complete loss for words. He might as well have eaten the dumb cane sap. Blue eyes gave Crowley a shocked look. 

“Crowley…” he stammered. “I…” The demon was challenging his entire belief system, which Aziraphale was not prepared for. “I’m _not_ a bootlicker!” he finished lamely, that sentence brimming with unstated emotions.

“No, you’re not,” Crowley replied more gently. “You truly believe, but the Heaven you believe in doesn’t exist, angel. I fear it’s going to break your heart when you finally figure that out.”

“You’re wrong,” Aziraphale replied. He felt very much like fleeing now. This was all a mistake. He didn’t come here to stand in a hot humid room to be lectured by a _demon_ of all creatures. He tugged at his collar in an attempt to get if off his sweaty neck.

Crowley displayed no discomfort at the high temperatures. He may be been sweating a bit, but it was just to keep up appearances. “Somewhere deep inside you know I’m right, angel.” He walked over and took Aziraphale’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look at him. Aziraphale did for a moment before staring stubbornly at the floor. Crowley realized then how much he wanted to push his lips against the angel’s in a passionate kiss. He swallowed hard. “I just hope you don’t lose your faith. I personally don’t want to find out if angels can still Fall.”

He needed to let go right now before he did something foolish. He quickly dropped his hand to his side, feeling the sudden ache to grab Aziraphale’s in response to the feelings he’d been developing over the last few centuries. 

If Hell ever found out he was in love with an angel, they wouldn’t wait for an explanation before tearing him apart. 

He sighed. “I want you to know I won’t ask for holy water again. I would never use it to suicide, but I have real reasons for wanting insurance. You’d get a rude note. I could very well end up being tortured in some lake of fire.”

He gestured towards the door; Aziraphale exited the conservatory. They ended up in the drawing room, but Aziraphale refused to sit. This conversation was going nowhere fast and he right now just wanted to escape back to his bookshop where he could pretend it never happened.

Crowley poured himself some scotch. Taking a seat, he regarded the anxious angel, who looked incredibly lost standing hesitantly there in the doorway. 

“I forgive you, but I hope you realize that I am more than just the Enemy. Heaven and Hell don’t give a damn about us. We’re the only ones who appreciate the other’s experiences here on Earth. Try not to forget that or you’re going to get awfully lonely.” 

_And so will I_, he thought quietly. _Because you have no clue how much you mean to me. _

Maybe one day Aziraphale come to that conclusion. Crowley’s hope spiked when Aziraphale nodded, a slight smile on his face before he showed himself out. 

“Yes, well. You’re not exactly my first choice for company, but if you’re willing to forgive me, let’s have lunch tomorrow.”

“I think I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question that I hope you guys reading will answer for me . . . I kind of have an idea of a 4th chapter. I'm having thoughts about discussions had during their lunch and maybe developing Aziraphale's views on their friendship a little more. What do you think?


	4. That Moment One Realizes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You love me, don’t you?” The question came out so quietly Crowley could barely hear it over the sound of hooves from the street._
> 
> _The demon froze, not daring to answer it right away._

The rain pattered against the windows of Aziraphale’s club as they sat by one looking out while eating lunch. Aziraphale eventually turned back to his plate where he pushed food around instead of eating it. He was busy remembering their first meeting long ago when he put up a wing to shelter Crowley from the first storm while magically shielding himself.

It was just an act of kindness, wasn’t it? It hadn’t really _meant_ friendship.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Sometimes I don’t understand your turns of phrase, my dear.”

“You’re awfully quiet. What’s going on?” Crowley paused a moment. “You’re not overthinking yesterday, are you? Don’t overthink yesterday.”

“You gave me a lot to think about.”

“Thinking’s one thing, overthinking is another,” replied Crowley as he swirled the wine in his glass. “Stay true to yourself, realize that Heaven’s not perfect and stop thinking of me as the Enemy because we’re on our own here. That’s all you need to consider.”

Aziraphale just looked at the table, nodding as he tried to refocus on eating. Crowley stood up. “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s raining.”

“Give me two seconds and it won’t be.”

They exited onto the pavement, the sky overcast, but no longer drizzling. The Hansom cabs were doing quite a business. Ladies out on the streets were careful to keep their skirts from getting in the mud. Crowley crammed his hat on his head, shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off. Aziraphale trotted to catch up with him. 

“What are your thoughts?” Crowley asked, trying to sound casual.

“You like Earth, don’t you? Better than Hell?”

“Yes.” Crowley, with a thought, kept a puddle disturbed by a passing cab from soaking them.

“We’ve only got a few short years left, you know. The prophecies say it’ll happen around the end of the next century or so.”

“And?” Crowley didn’t like thinking about The End.

“It means me versus you. And I like you,” replied the angel. He looked at Crowley with troubled blue eyes. “It’ll be war. We’re not on the same side.”

“I try not to think about it. Unless I’m thinking about how to stop it.”

“But you can’t. It’s the Great Plan. It’s just easier to…” Aziraphale broke off uncomfortably, fiddling with the gloves he was holding.

“Keep me at arm’s length?” Crowley’s heart twisted.

“You could say that.”

“You’re denying yourself friendship because of prophecies?”

The tear that slipped down Aziraphale’s cheek was barely noticeable, but Crowley saw it all the same. Aziraphale nodded, not looking at him.

“Aziraphale, quit worrying about all the ineffability you preach to me about and just live for once. What’s it going to hurt? If worst comes to worst, we can stand with Earth against Heaven and Hell.”

“That’s madness. We’d be killed!”

“It’s better than life without Earth. But anyway, what does it hurt to not be lonely while you’re stationed here? You don’t get many visitors from Heaven. Just orders.”

They reached a small park with a couple of benches. Crowley waved one dry and sat on it, Aziraphale joining him. The angel was silent a long time.

“We’re not on our own side,” he said finally.

“Suit yourself. But I’m still extending friendship, angel, because we do have more in common with each other than our own people.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was scandalized by that comment. 

“You know it’s true and I think that’s another reason you’d rather not get close to me. You don’t want that verified.”

Beside him, Aziraphale sniffed haughtily. He could not bring himself to look at the demon, the one person in this world who truly challenged his principles, sometimes almost bringing him to doubt his very own beliefs. 

It was a hard place to be in, given he did trust in Heaven’s views and his mission here on Earth, while believing at the same time Crowley was capable of kindnesses a demon should not have been. It was better to remember that even if Crowley was not your typical demon, he couldn’t open his heart to him in a stronger friendship than the casual one they shared. It would just complicate matters further. Crowley was already good at confounding things, Aziraphale feared.

“You love me, don’t you?” The question came out so quietly Crowley could barely hear it over the sound of hooves from the street.

The demon froze, not daring to answer it right away.

“Crowley?”

“Yes,” he eventually replied because he’d never lied to Aziraphale before, nor was he going to start now. “We have been through a lot together, angel. It's affected me.”

“It is strong. I can feel it. What am I supposed to do?” He looked at the demon uncertainly.

“Nothing because I won’t ask you for more than you can give.”

“You won’t?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“Do you have a problem still being friends?”

“No. I believe you, Crowley.” Aziraphale was again fidgeting with his gloves, twisting leather around fingers.

“Then we just continue. I’ll handle my own feelings.” Crowley reached into his waistcoat, pulling out his watch. He might not lie to Aziraphale, but he wasn’t going to tell him how much he did pine for him.

He would take friendship. It wasn’t some consolation prize like he used to think. It was a real connection he very much appreciated and enjoyed, although admittedly he’d enjoy more if it was offered.

He rose from the bench. “I have to catch a train… an assignment out east. Sorry.”

Aziraphale stood up, too, suddenly grabbing Crowley’s jacket, pulling him close. “I’m sorry you feel things I don’t, my dear. I wish I could understand why I don’t.”

He felt Crowley take his head in his hands and place the gentlest of kisses on his forehead. 

“Maybe one day you will.”

Crowley departed, leaving Aziraphale with heaps to contemplate. He would for the next seventy-nine years until that moment he fell head over heels for Crowley and suddenly understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending was inspired by [this picture](https://the-bentley.tumblr.com/image/188034901791).


End file.
